Learning the Milly Rock
by Tyger Bryght
Summary: Days after awakening from the cryo-freeze, Bucky struggles to adapt to his new life in Wakanda, haunted by the demons of his past. Shuri teaches him a way to relax – in the form of a new dance move. Oneshot inspired by an interview with Letitia and Seb themselves.


"Sergeant Barnes!"

The sound of Shuri's cheerful voice brought Bucky out of his thoughts, and he looked up sharply. He stood in front of the lake, at the water's edge, watching the ripples dissolving into the long grass.

Shuri was striding towards him with her usual, catlike grin on her face. A group of four children tumbled around her feet, eyeing him as they approached.

"It's good to see you are finally awake," Shuri said teasingly.

Bucky looked back back at his hut, and his eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "I overslept," he said slowly. It came off as a question.

"I was hoping you would," Shuri said, and he looked at her in surprise. "You have been taking everything so _seriously_ lately. You need to relax."

"Hm," Bucky said noncommittally.

She gave a grin. "So," she said, "we have something a little different today."

Bucky picked up on the change of pronoun. _We_. He glanced down at the two girls that were hovering the closest around Shuri. Two pairs of curious brown eyes stared up at him from around Shuri's legs, and he felt his defenses rise.

"Training?" he asked Shuri.

"In. . . a way," she said, suddenly looking a little sly. She bent to speak to the girls at her feet. "Go on – ask him."

Breaking into excited grins, both girls stepped forward. Bucky eyed them carefully and didn't move.

He had grown used to almost everything here since emerging from the cryo-freeze; with Shuri's help and training day after day, he had been able to fend off the night terrors that plagued his sleep, adjust to Wakandan life, and even acclimate to living amongst a society again.

But kids – kids still made him nervous. In the same way a puppy broke easier than a dog, children broke easier than adults. They were. . . fragile. So fragile.

Wordlessly, one of the girls patted her own head, then pointed up at his.

Not to mention, he didn't speak their language, and he wasn't the best at charades.

Shuri watched them with an impish grin on her face, raising her eyebrows at Bucky. "They want to style your hair," she translated when it became clear that he didn't understand what they wanted.

The request caught Bucky off-guard, and his eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "My hair?" he repeated.

"It's Caucasian," Shuri explained, dropping her voice to a half-whisper. "Different in texture. They're fascinated with it."

Bucky looked at the children, the earnest, innocent expressions in their eyes. He finally looked back at Shuri. "You really think this is a good idea?"

"They seem to think so," Shuri said with a casual shrug of one shoulder. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and he could read the sincerity in her expression.

It was her way of telling him yes.

After a moment, Bucky nodded. "Okay."

"Okay!" Shuri said in a whisper to the children, and they rushed forward, giggling, grabbing Bucky's arm. The two boys, lagging a few feet behind Shuri pretending not to be interested, suddenly perked up and trotted quickly after the group. They clearly didn't want to miss a chance to be around Wakanda's strange new arrival.

As they started pulling Bucky toward the direction of his hut, Shuri took a step backwards. "Have fun!" she said brightly.

"Wait." Bucky twisted around, a panicked look flashing across his face. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry," Shuri called over her shoulder, sounding a little more cheerful than she should have. "They don't bite!"

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* * *

.

The two girls sat on the edge of the bed, and they sat Bucky down on the floor in front of them so they were level with his head. The two young boys sat on the floor opposite Bucky, mouths open, studying his face when they thought he wasn't looking.

Bucky sat stiffly, his hand forming a tight fist in his lap. He kept his hand pressed tightly against his inner thigh. _Don't hurt them_, his subconscious repeated. _Don't snap. For the love of God, don't snap._

The oldest girl – she had to have been around nine or ten at most – sat behind him, taking charge of his hair, and began combing it out with her fingers. She seemed to know what she was doing. Her fingers began to work through his hair, carefully untangling the knots before beginning to braid.

At first, the slight pulls and tugs against his scalp only made Bucky tense up more. He wasn't used to _touch_; least of all a gentle touch. But as she continued, slowly and methodically working and re-working his hair, he started to understand the rhythm. He felt himself begin to relax, his fist start to slacken in his lap.

The children started singing a kind of a lullaby song in Xhosa, the native language of Wakanda. Its melody somewhat resembled Baa Baa Black Sheep – some sort of standard lullaby that children were taught since they were little, but with a more Wakandan flair.

The kids were obviously changing the lyrics as they went, however, as they collapsed into giggles after a verse. Bucky felt a smile pulling at his lips.

Being around kids was different to the adults. The adults knew of his past – what he had done, what he was capable of. These children, on the other hand, had no reason to fear him.

One of the boys got to his feet. He had either grown bored or too curious to sit still anymore, and he walked over to the girls to take a peek at what they were doing.

"_Wenzani, _Siwati?" he asked.

The girl named Siwati, her fingers in Bucky's hair, answered him in Xhosa, explaining what she was doing.

A rhythmic babble of opinions followed from the others. Bucky didn't know the language, and it was just as well. All the children spoke so fast he couldn't have kept up with their conversation if he wanted to.

But the conversation shifted. Bucky may not have understood the language, but he could read tonal inflection. The children's voices were rising in volume, and it sounded like an argument was bubbling up.

Picking up on the energy, Bucky felt himself tensing up again. "Guys –" he said warningly.

The boy, Oleku, made a grab for Siwati's arm.

"Oleku, _yeka_!" Her hand jerked away from Bucky's head.

With his hair entwined in her fingers, Bucky's head jerked backwards, and a sharp, needlelike pain shot from his scalp all the way down his arm.

His _left_ arm.

It was a phantom nerve pain, feeling the limb that wasn't even there, but even still he could _feel_ it. Muscle memory flashed into his brain before he could stop it. He could remember everything; the feel of delivering a final blow, the feel of a nose breaking beneath his fist, the feel of a windpipe collapsing beneath his palm.

Bucky jerked to his feet. His breath caught in his throat; he could feel his heart pounding. His head was hot and spinning, smothering him, drowning him in voices.

_Ready to comply, Soldier?_

He squeezed his eyes shut against the words.

_Ground yourself_, Shuri had advised him when his panic attacks arose._ You are never lost if you take notice of your surroundings. Take note of three things – what you can see, what you can feel, what you can hear._

Panting, Bucky forced himself to open his eyes.

The inside of the hut. The sunlight outside. The rich red dirt beneath his feet, already warm with the heat of the day. Bucky felt his heartbeat start to slow down. The pain was gone from his head. And he could hear –

Silence.

_Damn it, the kids_.

He slowly turned around.

The children were looking up at him. Their squabble had died down instantly, and they looked were looking at him through wide, scared eyes.

He hated that look of fear. After a long moment he swallowed. "Sorry," he said finally, his voice hoarse.

He didn't know whether to sit back down or leave the hut. He considered leaving, but something made him hesitate. Without looking at the kids again, he sat back down in front of the bed.

After a long moment, Siwati carefully took sections of his hair, picking up where she had left off. Her fingers moved more carefully this time, more slowly. He noticed the difference.

Bucky closed his eyes. He was dizzy with relief that his outburst hadn't escalated to something worse.

The children forgave his outburst far faster than he would. Seeming to forget about the brief scare, they returned to their easy chatter returned within a matter of minutes.

Finally, Siwati finished. She leaned away from his head, as if reviewing her work.

"Okay," she said in English, and got up from the bed. Running across the hut, she picked up a mirror from the bedside table. A ceremonious hush fell over the other three children, curious to see the results of what she had done.

Siwati turned around to face Bucky. Suddenly looking very shy, she handed him the mirror.

"Do you like it?" she asked in halting English.

Bucky absorbed his reflection. He still saw his unshaved beard, his eyes that were dark around the edges, but his unkempt hair had been pulled away from his face, twisted around into a half-up, half-down kind of style. It was knotted neatly with a single leather cord.

"I do," he said, and he was surprised to realize he meant it. His eyes flicked up, and he gave her a rare smile. "Thank you."

She dipped her chin to her chest shyly, giggling to herself with glee. She turned and ran out of the hut, her feet pounding against the dirt. The boys shouted excitedly and ran after her, caught up in the exhilaration of winning the White Wolf's approval.

Bucky could faintly hear them calling Shuri's name. He smiled to himself and checked his reflection in the mirror once more before getting up.

It had been a while since he had looked into the mirror and liked what he saw.

.

* * *

.

Shuri grinned widely as Bucky walked up to her. "Let's see!" she said.

Wordlessly, he turned his head to one side, showing her the profile of the hair. It had been twisted up into a half-bun, keeping it out of his face.

"Hm." She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to one side. "Different," she said, her accent stretching the word into three rhythmic syllables.

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. He had been expecting a much more favorable response. "You don't like it?"

"I was hoping for pigtails," Shuri said seriously.

After a moment, she laughed. "I'm joking," she said. "You look very nice. And ready for more training."

Bucky stiffened slightly. "No," he said. "Not – not yet."

"What is wrong?" Shuri asked, picking up on his mood. She lifted her eyebrows, trying once more at a joke. "Would you have _preferred_ pigtails?"

"It's not that," Bucky muttered. He leaned onto the fence, gripping the top rail tightly with his one arm.

Shuri watched him patiently. She had found that it was easier to let him speak when he was ready rather than push him further with questions.

"They – there was – something happened." Bucky stopped and heaved out an impatient breath. "They had an argument, and I. . . felt it again. My arm. I could just – _feel_ it."

Shuri tilted her head, studying his face. "And?" she prompted.

"I remembered how I used to hurt people." Bucky's voice cracked. "God, I remembered. . . _how_. And I could feel it." He looked down at his own arm, clenching his jaw so tightly that Shuri could see the muscles through his cheeks. "It felt like I could so easily hurt _them_."

Shuri's face sobered. "I wouldn't have agreed to them doing it if I thought you weren't ready," she said seriously. "You have made such progress. You might not be able to see it, but I can."

Bucky looked up. An unexpectedly haunted, vulnerable look had come into his eyes, and he spoke past a lump in his throat. "But I could have –"

"But you _didn't_," Shuri said over him. "You have come such a very long way, Sergeant Barnes."

He didn't reply for a long time. Finally, he opened his mouth. "It's just Bucky."

Shuri hid her smile. "Bucky," she repeated.

He looked out at the lake, and she followed his gaze. The water shimmered a golden white in the sun.

"D'you know what you need?" Shuri asked suddenly, her voice bright. "A way to relax, get out that tension."

"Oh yeah?" Bucky said, raising his eyebrows in anticipation at her sudden lighthearted tone. "What would you suggest?"

She stepped away from the fence and faced him. "Raise your arm here, like this," she instructed, diving immediately into a tutorial. She took his arm and pulled it up to his chest. "Now, scoop it towards yourself like this – and then again – in a circular motion, just like this. Like you are shooing flies. And then finish with a dramatic swipe towards yourself. Like _this_!" She did a move herself.

Bucky looked faintly suspicious, but held his arm in place as she pulled away. "What is this?"

"This –" She started dancing herself, biting her lower lip in concentration, "– is called the Milly Rock."

"Uh-huh." Bucky watched her with a bemused expression.

Shuri glanced up, realizing he was only watching. "Well, come on," she said, swatting his shoulder. "You've got to do it too. Remember to swipe, like this – crouch down a bit. More enthusiasm!" She threw back her head and laughed as he tried to follow all three instructions as once.

He lowered his arm. "Better with two hands?" he guessed.

"Perfect with one," she corrected him.

He looked up.

"Try again. Like this." She demonstrated again, slower this time, and he followed her steps, taking over as she watched.

"Ayyy, you've got it. You've _got_ it!" Shuri laughed, clapping her hands together once. "It will be easier with the music."

Bucky lowered his arm, giving up on the dance with a slight chuckle. "Whatever happened to swing dancing?" he asked rhetorically.

Shuri tsked her tongue and waved her hand dismissively. "Ancient history!" she said playfully. "Get with the times, man."

Bucky gave a dry smile. "I hear that a lot."

"And always from me." Shuri relented, her expression softening. "Perhaps the swing is what _you_ will teach me."

He looked up, a familiar, defensive expression quickly closing over his face.

"Once you are ready," Shuri added, before he could promise or refuse anything.

Instead of responding, he nodded once, and he gave her a quick, guarded smile.

"But first," she said, raising her pointer finger and her eyebrows at the same time, "_I_ teach _you_ the Milly Rock."

Raising her wrist, she slid one of the Kimoyo beads from her bracelet into the palm of her hand. A little blue hologram sprung up from it, and she manipulated the display until music began coming through the bead, slightly tinny, but loud enough to be heard clearly.

Bucky looked at the Kimoyo bead with a mixture of fascination and confusion.

"Okay, we'll try again, yes?" Shuri said, raising her voice to be heard over the music. "Raise your arm, and swipe it. Crouch down. . . ."

Bucky obligingly continued following her instructions, slowly getting better each time.

.

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* * *

_._

_Author's Note: If any of you have ever had a child play with your hair you know exactly the kind of pain Bucky went through lol_

_Holy heck this was a lot of fun to write! :D I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Let me know what you thought!_

_This one-shot came about after I watched an interview with Letitia Wright and Sebastian Stan. They're asked what one-shot they would like with their characters, and they responded saying they wanted a scene of Shuri teaching Bucky how to dance.. You can see the full interview if you search 'Letitia Wright Sebastian Stan Glamour' on YouTube. (You can even see where I got the inspiration for the "kids doing Bucky's hair" bit. ^-^) I wanted their one-shot to come to life, so here it is!_


End file.
